John J. Rambo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theydrewfirstblood) wrote2023-11-17 09:24 pm
theydrewfirstblood) wrote2023-11-17 09:24 pm
Entry tags:
[PUMPKIN HOLLOW] INBOX
{phone calls/notes/misc for John Rambo here!}
{phone calls/notes/misc for John Rambo here!}
Look, at some point Rambo's on the farm, and there's an unfamiliar face trying to get Bobbin down off the roof of the greenhouse. How did she get up there? It doesn't matter, she's not allowed to just rest on the top of the greenhouse, and is that someone's missing diary and a collection of handkerchiefs that she's dragged up there?
Care to help?
Care to help?
John's out on the town when suddenly there's a shadow overhead. No, not a military aircraft, not even a helicopter...that's a whole ass bird-man, about to land on the roof of the building John just walked out of. What the fuck?
“Bobs, what the hell you doin’?”
The quiet laugh comes from a couple feet behind the man, where one John Rambo is standing with his arms folded and his face tipped up to regard the rogue chicken with a grin.
”buk…buk-buk…”
“Likely story. Get your butt down here. C’mon.”
Bobbin struts over, grabs one of her pilfered handkerchiefs, then comes to the edge of the roof to fling herself down with a chaotic beating of wings. John meets her halfway to catch her, gently taking the handkerchief from her beak.
“This for me? Flirt.” Looking over at the man, he offers him the handkerchief as Bobbin cheerfully snuggles up to his chest.
“We’ve met, me ‘n her. I can climb up to get the stuff if you want?”
The quiet laugh comes from a couple feet behind the man, where one John Rambo is standing with his arms folded and his face tipped up to regard the rogue chicken with a grin.
”buk…buk-buk…”
“Likely story. Get your butt down here. C’mon.”
Bobbin struts over, grabs one of her pilfered handkerchiefs, then comes to the edge of the roof to fling herself down with a chaotic beating of wings. John meets her halfway to catch her, gently taking the handkerchief from her beak.
“This for me? Flirt.” Looking over at the man, he offers him the handkerchief as Bobbin cheerfully snuggles up to his chest.
“We’ve met, me ‘n her. I can climb up to get the stuff if you want?”
"No, if she respects you enough to stay put, you keep the chicken. Bobbin and I don't get along. Which is pretty normal, the fact that Thread doesn't want to destroy me makes her the weird one."
How long does it take John to notice that Angel is neither breathing nor blinking? He climbs mechanically, no particular expression on his face.
How long does it take John to notice that Angel is neither breathing nor blinking? He climbs mechanically, no particular expression on his face.
Well... more like a package of sorts. There's a large basket, covered with a red gingham-check cloth, sitting in front of John's door at the Oak and Iron. It contains a few covered containers with food inside -- an omelette, slices of toast (stacked with the buttered sides in), a bowl full of roasted squash and potatoes, and two fresh oranges. There is also a letter that reads:
Doc Chris Freeman from the clinic said to send your meals up to your room. Please let us know if you have any special requests, otherwise we are going to follow the nutrition plan they gave us. Regards, the Kitchen Staff
For a second, his heart starts beating faster—it really does feel like an aircraft, that heavy dark shadow passing over him as he walks out of the Oak and Iron.
It’s a little easier, though, to remember himself. Maybe it’s the fact he’s eating better thanks to Freeman, who he’s still trying to track down discreetly, or maybe he’s just…feeling better. He’s visiting Hawkeye and River semi-regularly, goes up to the farm once in a while to visit Eddie, Angel, and Bobbin, he’s more proactive about looking for work as his confidence sort of grows…
But the shadow passes over him, he stops, afraid, and manages to breathe through it before turning to follow the shadow back to the building.
Where a man-shaped bird is on the roof.
“…hi.”
Hey, if he’s gonna hallucinate, might as well be polite.
It’s a little easier, though, to remember himself. Maybe it’s the fact he’s eating better thanks to Freeman, who he’s still trying to track down discreetly, or maybe he’s just…feeling better. He’s visiting Hawkeye and River semi-regularly, goes up to the farm once in a while to visit Eddie, Angel, and Bobbin, he’s more proactive about looking for work as his confidence sort of grows…
But the shadow passes over him, he stops, afraid, and manages to breathe through it before turning to follow the shadow back to the building.
Where a man-shaped bird is on the roof.
“…hi.”
Hey, if he’s gonna hallucinate, might as well be polite.
John doesn’t notice the physical oddity—not until the man comes down with his stuff and he’s not breathing hard.
That’s when John realizes…he may not actually be breathing.
So if he’s holding Bobbin a little more securely…
“You, uh—you okay, buddy? You seem…”
…fuck, how do you ask a guy if he’s breathing?
That’s when John realizes…he may not actually be breathing.
So if he’s holding Bobbin a little more securely…
“You, uh—you okay, buddy? You seem…”
…fuck, how do you ask a guy if he’s breathing?
"Are you used to being swooped at? You seem nervous." The hallucination is, at least, apparently aware of the effect he's had on John. There's perhaps a faint note of apology in his tone of voice.
(Don't ask how he's speaking without lips, he just is.)
He tucks his wings, makes his presence a little smaller. Tries not to be so obviously a bird of prey.
(Don't ask how he's speaking without lips, he just is.)
He tucks his wings, makes his presence a little smaller. Tries not to be so obviously a bird of prey.
"Don't pussyfoot, just say what you're thinking. I've heard it all before. Most recently, from every doctor in town."
He's more amused than upset even in the potential about what might come out of John's mouth.
"Bet you five brass you can't come up with a new question I haven't heard yet."
He's more amused than upset even in the potential about what might come out of John's mouth.
"Bet you five brass you can't come up with a new question I haven't heard yet."
John blinks a little at how blunt he is about it--but the surprise isn't a bad thing, making one corner of his mouth quirk up a little at the joking challenge.
Which, of course, John takes seriously, his gaze wandering for a moment as he casts around in his head for something to ask...
"...you still need a mint before you kiss someone after eating Italian?" he shoots back half seriously. "I mean--can you have bad breath if you don't breathe?"
Which, of course, John takes seriously, his gaze wandering for a moment as he casts around in his head for something to ask...
"...you still need a mint before you kiss someone after eating Italian?" he shoots back half seriously. "I mean--can you have bad breath if you don't breathe?"
"By choppers, yes. Birds, no." John replies, sliding his hands into his pockets as he regards the bird on the roof evenly, if still nervously.
"They also don't tend to talk. Birds, I mean."
"They also don't tend to talk. Birds, I mean."
“What’s a chopper? They sound…violent.” He bristles and then shrugs his shoulders. “I’m an eisfurra, not a bird, strictly speaking. Birdfolk, in the common tongue, but that’s like comparing a gnoll to a lapdog.”
Eddie--two and two makes four.
"Angel?" John ventures, just to be sure as he accepts the five brass bit with a grin. "Eddie mentioned you--John Rambo, pleasure. Eddie's how I met Bobbin here."
"Buk-buk-b-k'ak?..."
"Yeah, we're talkin' about you, beautiful."
Bobbin accepts her due praise by plucking at John's shirt collar with her beak.
"Angel?" John ventures, just to be sure as he accepts the five brass bit with a grin. "Eddie mentioned you--John Rambo, pleasure. Eddie's how I met Bobbin here."
"Buk-buk-b-k'ak?..."
"Yeah, we're talkin' about you, beautiful."
Bobbin accepts her due praise by plucking at John's shirt collar with her beak.
"Yes, I'm Angel. Eddie's partner. Which would, in theory, make me Bobbin's other parental figure, but I'm the evil stepfather in her Cinderella story."
Angel smiles. It's this little flickering thing that doesn't last very long, as if his face is too heavy to hold up.
Angel smiles. It's this little flickering thing that doesn't last very long, as if his face is too heavy to hold up.
"Helicopters--flying machines." John replies, suddenly unsure if they have things like airplanes in a world with bird men--sorry, eisfurra.
"...is a gnoll a...is it dogfolk?" John ventures uncertainly, still looking up at the bird person.
This is...strange, even in this situation. Would he be rude to ask him to come down? John's still not convinced this is entirely real...
...Christ.
"...is a gnoll a...is it dogfolk?" John ventures uncertainly, still looking up at the bird person.
This is...strange, even in this situation. Would he be rude to ask him to come down? John's still not convinced this is entirely real...
...Christ.
"More like, erm, hyenafolk?"
Cerrit eyes John thoughtfully, perhaps sizing him up. Perhaps something else.
"I can find another roof if you're nervy about me."
Cerrit eyes John thoughtfully, perhaps sizing him up. Perhaps something else.
"I can find another roof if you're nervy about me."
John's not sure why, but that makes him laugh--just a little, but it's enough to unwind some of the tension building in him. It's...oddly normal for such an out there situation, and it...it helps.
"It's more the angle." he admits. "Talkin' to a bird--an eisfurra is weird, but talkin' to literally anyone just perched on a roof with no safety gear's a little unsettling. But, y'know, I won't ask you to come to ground level if that's an insult or anything. Not sure of the etiquette here."
"It's more the angle." he admits. "Talkin' to a bird--an eisfurra is weird, but talkin' to literally anyone just perched on a roof with no safety gear's a little unsettling. But, y'know, I won't ask you to come to ground level if that's an insult or anything. Not sure of the etiquette here."
“Safety gear? Silly humans.”
But Cerrit moves right to the edge of the roof and flitters gracefully to the ground near Rambo, before straightening a feather or two with his beak. Big bird is still bird.
But Cerrit moves right to the edge of the roof and flitters gracefully to the ground near Rambo, before straightening a feather or two with his beak. Big bird is still bird.
"BAAK!"
John looks at Bobbin, then back up at Angel with a raised eyebrow. "I get the feeling she disagrees. What's up, sweetheart. You don't think he's evil?"
"...b'k, buk-buk-buk..."
Well. There you have it. Laughing, John looks up at Angel again, a little more assessing but not with any real intensity.
He's kind of already decided he likes the guy--and he likes Eddie, so he's not feeling especially protective. Especially when Eddie got that immeasurably soft look talking about him.
"Well, it's good to meet you. Eddie...I don't know him well, but when he talked about you--well, y'know. It's clear he cares about you a lot."
John looks at Bobbin, then back up at Angel with a raised eyebrow. "I get the feeling she disagrees. What's up, sweetheart. You don't think he's evil?"
"...b'k, buk-buk-buk..."
Well. There you have it. Laughing, John looks up at Angel again, a little more assessing but not with any real intensity.
He's kind of already decided he likes the guy--and he likes Eddie, so he's not feeling especially protective. Especially when Eddie got that immeasurably soft look talking about him.
"Well, it's good to meet you. Eddie...I don't know him well, but when he talked about you--well, y'know. It's clear he cares about you a lot."
“I care about him, too. He’s…I’ve never had anyone to care about before, and I’m going to be there for him long as he’ll have me.” Angel glances over his shoulder as if afraid Eddie might overhear the love. “He’s good, you know? He’s just really a good person. Sometimes I worry I don’t deserve it.”
God, that hits John square in the gut with how much he can relate. He’s alone, romantically, but all of the people that have come into his life here, gone above and beyond to look out for him…
“Well…sometimes the universe doesn’t give a shit what you think.” He sighs with a shrug and a wan smile, a line of faces running through his head—Eddie’s among them. Angel’s, too…that five brass piece in his pocket is a weight he can suddenly feel, heavy as a stone with the camaraderie attached to it.
That makes his smile a little bit brighter.
“And when you get real damn lucky, that can actually be a good thing.”
“Well…sometimes the universe doesn’t give a shit what you think.” He sighs with a shrug and a wan smile, a line of faces running through his head—Eddie’s among them. Angel’s, too…that five brass piece in his pocket is a weight he can suddenly feel, heavy as a stone with the camaraderie attached to it.
That makes his smile a little bit brighter.
“And when you get real damn lucky, that can actually be a good thing.”
That gets another laugh out of John—and yeah, the preening is still weird. But? Less…unsettling on equal footing.
“There…still a lotta feathers, but it’s easier to look you in the eye.” He decides aloud. On reflex, he offers the guy his hand—then looks unsure again.
Do his kind shake…wings?…
“Uh…name’s John. John Rambo.”
“There…still a lotta feathers, but it’s easier to look you in the eye.” He decides aloud. On reflex, he offers the guy his hand—then looks unsure again.
Do his kind shake…wings?…
“Uh…name’s John. John Rambo.”
There is a hand that comes out to shake John's. It is scaly, and tipped with very sharp talons.
"Cerrit Agrupnin. Nice to meet you, John."
And yet, if the handshake happens? He is so incredibly careful with the talons, they never touch skin.
"Cerrit Agrupnin. Nice to meet you, John."
And yet, if the handshake happens? He is so incredibly careful with the talons, they never touch skin.
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